I remember when Gilbert and I had a weekend away in the City years ago after having children. We were like a couple of teenagers. We went out for dinner and then wandered around. Dropped into nightclubs feeling very hip. A drink here and there. We couldn’t get over how many people were out and about. Bouncers at the doors. Kids who looked like they were about twelve years old. Completely naive we wandered up side streets exploring the night scene.

Thinking back now we probably looked completely out of place. A couple of oldies. As we wandered back to the hotel after midnight we passed a group of young kids standing around smoking. A sickly sweet smell hung in the night air. After we’d passed them I said to Gilbert. That’s weird. Why would a bunch of young kids be smoking cigars? It reminded me of the smell of Dad smoking a cigar occasionally. Gilbert looked back & said, “I don’t think they’re cigars”. Hmmm. I just had a thought writing that!

Anyway the other day we were joking what special thing we could do in each country we visit and said we could smoke dope in Amsterdam and dance the jig in Ireland. I said I’d probably have to GIVE Gilbert some dope to get him to dance the jig. Duane said she’ll be here Tuesday night and perhaps we could practice to make sure it was safe. I told her I happened to have some old cigars and maybe we could try that down in the orchard so the kids don’t see. Imagine how funny that would be! I’m chuckling thinking about it…

I wish Dad was still here sometimes. There’s something I’d like to ask him…